Everything Has Changed
by HannahBanana94
Summary: Lucy Harte never knew her dad. She had a name and that was it. With the news that she is going to be sent to the middle of nowhere to live the family she has never met, it's no wonder she's a little bit adamant to go, even though she gets away from her horrid foster family.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **_Lucy Harte never knew her dad. She had a name and that was it. With the news that she is going to be sent to the middle of nowhere to live the family she has never met, it's no wonder she's a little bit adamant to go, even though she gets away from her horrid foster family. __  
_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Emmerdale or anything else in this fanfiction. The only thing I own is Lucy Harte. **

**Warning: Language (sorry, she has a fowl mouth sometimes)**

**I am sorry for the terrible summary. I just couldn't find the words for it. If anyone has anymore ideas, please don't be afraid to share them. I will give you credit for it, if I use it. I will change it, once I can think on a good summary. **

* * *

**one.**

I, somewhat violently, threw what clothes I had into one of my Converse dufflebags. I say 'somewhat violently', because I am just as frustrated as any normal teenager would be with their parents. Only they** aren't** my parents and I'm **not** a normal teenager.

Sorry, let me introduce myself. The name is Lucy Harte. I know, so girly, but whatever. It was my mother chose that name, please forgive her. She didn't know I would turn out the way I am, all tight jeans, leather jackets and combat boots. If you are mistaken and dare call me a girly girl, I will punch you in the face. But, I am a girl - hence, I do love clothes, make-up and all that jazz. What girl doesn't right? But, that is beyond the point.

Anyway, do excuse my mothers actions, that was all some seventeen years ago. Also, she is no longer with us, again, hence why I am staying with these OCD lunatics who act like they are my parents. Foster families, what are you gonna do? I am at the end of my tether with them; what an ancient thing to say! '_At the end of my_ _tether'? _Ugh, you know what I mean anyway.

Let me introduce Mark and Vanessa Cross, or as I like to call them Tarzan and Jane. Why? you ask? Well, Mark Cross, the 'best' pediatrician in this district of the city, is one hairy bugger. I wouldn't want him touching my kids. Well, I am only sixteen. Obviously, I am referencing my future children. Off topic, again! Where were we? Yes, Mark equals hairy, hence he's named Tarzan. Vanessa, well, shes a stuck up bitch with a waist the size of pea and her 'damsel-in-distress' attitude. Anytime I gave her a bit of lip, she'd call upon her great ape husband to 'rescue' her from their wayward foster daughter.

Their children aren't as bad, but still annoy the crap out of me. As Vanessa portrays everything, Ruby and Louise are her two perfect girls. If they knew some of the things I knew, they wouldn't be so perfect in her eyes. Ruby is engaged to a well-off banker, but having a bit on the side with his best friend. Louise is the same age as myself and also doing her A-Level. I have three words to describe her; _Up. The. Duff_.

That's all I really can say about them. Typical suburban family. Bit of a _Desperate Housewives _cliche. Everything seems pristine, then behind the crisp white net curtains, all hell is breaking loose. Vanessa likes to blame me, as this 'seems' to have started the moment I walked through the door. Please, I noticed the cracks in the wall on my first night in the house. It ain't my fault, love, that you're a controlling nag all of the time. I have a bet set with my mate on how many more years the marriage will last or before Tarzan cheats, if he hasn't already of course. He does spend a suspicious amount of time at 'work'. Fights are a regular occurrence in this house now, thanks to moi. Like tonight, for example.

"Yes, pack your bags, again," Vanessa said, sarcastically. She stood by the door, as she watched me pack my bags, for what felt like the tenth time in the twelve weeks I've been here. "You're really proving your point, Lucy. How many times is it now? Four? I've lost count. You always seem to come back."

"Well, that's because I never had a place to go before now," I said, grabbing more clothes from the drawer and shoving them roughly into the bag. Recently, Social Services had been contact. They had found my family in the middle of the Yorkshire dales and contacted them. Some were interested in meeting and they said, it could lead to me going to live with them permanently. I don't know what family it is. I don't know if it's my dad, whom I have never met, or it was some long-lost sibling, aunt, grandparent, cousin. I have no idea. They didn't really say. They only said, they'd be contact with us again, which was so frustrating. In case you're wondering, no I have no other maternal family, other than far out relatives.

My mother was an only child, and my grandparents died during my childhood. Luckily, they didn't have to see what she went through. But, I did. That's not the point, again. Anyway, the only family I had left were in the dales. I was a one-night-stand-baby. From what my mum told me before she died, she did tell my dad about me, shortly after I was born. But, he wasn't nothing to do with me. She even went as far as calling him a scumbag, even in her state.

"Oh, this new family that just popped out of the blue?" Vanessa asked, rhetorically. "I'm sure they'll be very pleased to see a complete stranger turn up on their doorstep. If they are in their right minds, they'd turn you away at the door. You're nothing but trouble. Since day one here, you've been pushing us the breaking point."

"Whatever you say," I said, throwing my already packed backpack over my shoulders. "I'm sure you'll be happy when I'm gone and don't come back."

"Oh, we'll be very happy," Vanessa said, as I, with two dufflebags draped over my frame, pushed past her. She was quick to follow me, as I bounced down the stairs.

"Fine, then there is nothing stopping you from letting me go," I said getting to the bottom of the stairs. I turned sharply, almost toppling over with the weight of my belongings. Everything I owned, that wasn't put into storage for the time being, was in these bags. Plus, I have very little co-ordination. Don't ask me to play football. I'll aim for something two feet away from you and still hit you in the face with the ball. Dancing? Bit no-no. Well, unless I or, possibly, you would like to get seriously injured. I looked up at her, a good five steps up from me. She must think of herself so big right now. Looking down her scrawny, long, plastic surgery-ridden nose at me. "I can't wait to get out of this place. I'm sick you treating me like I'm a little kid. I'm not even your kid in the first place. You can't tell me what to do."

"I'm already in trouble with Social Services, over the amount of times you've tried to do a runner," Vanessa said, stepping down to my level again quickly. She roughly grabbed my arm and I felt her long fingernails dig into my arm. "You're in our care, you'll do as we say. And I'm saying now, you're staying put, until they tell you that this family of yours actually wants you and you can finally leave. Believe me, I am looking forward to that day."

"Not bloody likely," I said, pulling my arm from her grasp.

"What's with all this shouting?" Louise asked, walking out of the living room.

"Nothing, dear," Vanessa said, walking over and putting her arm around her daughter. "Why don't you go to your room for a bit? until Lucy and I sort this out?"

"Okay," Louise agreed, giving a cautious look between me and her mother, before obeying.

"There is nothing to sort out, you can't make me stay," I said, angrily. "You're not my mum."

"Yeah, well if your mum wasn't such a little tart and slept around," Vanessa began, riling me up. "None of this would be a problem." I just smirked. "What are you smiling at?"

"You call my mum a tart for accidentally sleeping with one bloke when she was 25 and getting pregnant," I said, rather calmly. This wasn't like me. What is going on? "But, your oldest daughter is sleeping with her fiancee's best man and the other is pregnant at sixteen after a late night bender." I could see a vein bulge in her forehead in anger. "Oh, you can talk shit about my mum, but heaven forbid that I say something against your little 'angels'. What? Are you going smack me again? Teach me a little discipline? I'm ready." I turned my head slightly to side, calling a bluff. She wouldn't really hit me again. Not with Social Services being so involved at this time. Instead, her nostrils flared and she tried to keep herself calm as possible.

"I'd say have a nice life, but, I don't really like you," I said, before making my exit from the house of horrors. It was mid-morning. Half of the drive-way of the Cross household was empty, due to the monkey man being at work. Fixing the strap of the bag on my shoulder, I took off down the street and headed into Bradford city centre.

-X-

After what felt like a twenty year wait on several different buses, I had finally arrived in the village of Emmerdale. Honestly, there wasn't much too it. Just a little farming village. Nothing special. To be honest, I don't know anyone who would live her by choice, but there must be enough for them to have a stop on the bus journey from Hotton to Leeds. There was some-what of a main street straight ahead where the businesses were - a pub, a post office, a little café. You know the works. It's a country village, obviously it's not going to have much to it.

And in other news, I am gagging for a good brew and a bite to eat. I've been in three different bus stations today and only one of them had working snack machines. It was the first one, so you know. Yes, the first one, all the way back in Bradford. I am so hungry, that if the food does not come quickly, I will jump behind the counter and start preparing it myself. Plus, I just needed to sit down and relax on a non-mobile seat. Is that too much to ask?

I fumbled through the door of the nearby café, one of my duffle bags getting caught upon entry. I managed to yank it through the door before taking a look around the place. It wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. Probably enough for the village population. I mean, they can't have more than 30 people right? The interior was nice though. Lovely a light, but it reminds me of a hospital room. The light blue and white walls. Ugh, it just lugs up memories I'd rather forget.

I chucked my bags down under one of the tables and roughly sat myself down into one of the comfy, leather armchairs. Okay, the comfy part is a lie, these are as hard as rocks. Seriously, who would think of putting these in their café. While, shifting my hips about, trying to get comfortable, I pulled my phone out from my jeans pocket. As I flicked through Facebook, I didn't notice the woman walking over to me, with her hands on his apron-clad hips. I only noticed her presence, when her shadow descended upon me. Without hesitation, I slowly turned my head to look up at her. Hopefully this isn't one those joints that pick up your plates and ask you to go, before you even put down your cutlery.

"Can I help you?" I asked, scrunching my nose up. What she practicably hanging over us?

"Are you going to order?" She asked, trying to be as nice as possible. The was average enough in height and her brown hair and cut into a firm bob. "It's just we like to keep seats open for paying customers."

"Then I'll have a brew, ta," I said, curling up the edges of my lips. The woman scoffed before walking over the counter again. Stuck up cow. "Oh, and can I have a cheese butty too? I'm starving."

-X-

I took my time eating. Honestly, I just wanted to annoy the waitress. I had my cup of tea in one hand and my phone in the other, my eyes dancing over the words of some gossip website. It was something to do with Kim Kardashian's latest fashion choices, or was it Kourtney? I couldn't be bothered anyway. I was just trying to pass the time. Even though my tea was so cold, you could almost consider it ice, I won't be putting it down soon. Once I got to the point where I could no longer stand this nonsense journalists think is 'news', I looked up from the screen, only to see the, rather sexy, back of a stranger walk past me and towards the counter. I could feel my head tilt slightly to the right, as my eyes roamed over his body. I could tell from his clothes he was one of those farming fellas. Oh, I'd let him ride my tractor any day*.

"Like what you see?" He asked, looking slightly over his shoulder at me and chuckling. A smirk played on my lips.

"Depends on who it is," I said, leaning back in the chair. He turns around completely and begins walking to me. It's an effect. Plus, I love to flirt. Keeps things interesting. I may be sixteen, well seventeen in matter of weeks, but, I am experienced in this sort of thing.

"Adam," He said, smirking.

"Nice to meet you, Adam," I said, lifting the cup to lips. Ugh, what was I thinking. Cold tea is not nice, what so ever.

"You know, generally, if someone tells you their name," Adam said, sitting down across from her. "You usually say yours back."

"Lucy," I said, putting the cup down on the table again. "Now that we are acquainted, you can buy me another brew." Like clockwork, the waitress came over with Adams coffee, or tea, whatever it was. I'm not really that bothered.

"Ugh, tea for her please, Brenda," Adam told her. I just smirked more. On top of the fact that I have successfully managed to wrap him around my finger in a space of, what, two minutes, I was also riling up the waitress - oh wait, _Brenda_ even more.

"Her has a name you know," I said, tilting my head to the side again. "Or, do you have some short term memory disorder and can't remember it."

"Funny," He chuckled slightly. Yes, I'm funny. Not Russell Howard or Dara O'Brien funny, but I can crack the occasional funny joke. Most of the time it is a lot of fails, and a lot of sarcasm to cover it up.

"Oh, I wasn't joking," I said, in a serious tone.

"You going somewhere, Lucy?" He questioned, spotting the multiple bags shoved under the coffee table.

"Ugh, depends."

"Depends on what?"

"It just depends," I said, taking the cup of tea from Brenda.

"What?" He begins. "Have you run away, or something?"

"You could say that," I said, hesitating and bringing the cup to my lips. Excuse me for not wanting everyone to know our business.

"And there is me hoping you're staying around here instead of running," said Adam. I chuckle. He thinks this is going to happen. Mmm-mmm. I'm not that easy, lad. I may like to ogle and flirt, but I have standards.

"Maybe I will," I leaned back in my chair again. Then again, maybe he could help me? "You local?"

"Local enough," He nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking, maybe you could help me?" I asked. "I'm looking for someone in the village. But, I've never been here before in my life. I don't know where to go. I've only met two people and that's you and your waitress lass."

"Whats the name?" He asked, agreeing. Happy days. Now, I don't have to go and knock on every door in the village to try and find my family.

"Dingle."

* * *

***An actual quote from my very dirty minded friend. I hope she doesn't mind it being used here. Its still being used in the same context, though. **

**I hope you like and don't forget to review. **

**Also, if you have a few moments and love Acivii, head on over to YouTube and type in _Avicii v Lurgan_. Colaiste Lurgan from Ireland have done an amazing job at covering Wake Me Up through Irish. They used traditional irish instruments like the fiddle, tin whistle etc to create the music and the singer is actually unreal. They deserve a million views. It is amazing. Even if you don't understand Irish, take a look. You won't be disappointed. Even Avicii himself likes it, and like he said himself 'he doesn't know a word of it'. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **_Lucy Harte never knew her dad. She had a name and that was it. With the news that she is going to be sent to the middle of nowhere to live the family she has never met, it's no wonder she's a little bit adamant to go, even though she gets away from her horrid foster family. __  
_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Emmerdale or anything else in this fanfiction. The only thing I own is Lucy Harte. **

**Warning: Occasional offensive language.**

**I'm sorry if I have some sayings wrong in this. I am not from Yorkshire, I'm from Ireland. So all of my information is from the internet. Again, I apologize. Also, if anyone is from there and would like to give me a brief crash course on slang and what not, don't be afraid to give the odd message. **

**I am still working on the summary too guys!**

* * *

_Previously..._

_Cross house:_

_Vanessa to Lucy: "Yes, pack your bags, again. You're really proving your point, Lucy."_

_Lucy to Vanessa: "Well, that's because I never had a place to go before now."_

_Vanessa to Lucy: "Oh, this new family that just popped out of the blue? I'm sure they'll be very pleased to see a complete stranger turn up on their doorstep."_

_Lucy to Vanessa: "I'd say have a nice life, but, I don't really like you."_

_Café Main Street:_

_Lucy to Brenda: "Can I help you?"_

_Adam to Lucy: "Like what you see?"_

_Lucy to Adam: "Depends on who it is,"_

_Adam to Lucy: "Adam."_

_Lucy to Adam: "Lucy."_

_Adam to Lucy: "You going somewhere?"_

_Lucy to Adam: "I was thinking, maybe you could help me? I'm looking for someone in the village."_

_Adam to Lucy: "Whats the name?"_

_Lucy to Adam: "Dingle."_

* * *

**two.**

"So," I began, as his face seemed to drop. I just casually leaned back in my chair. "Could you give us a hand?"

"Depends," Adam said, nodding his head.

"On what?"

"On which Dingle you're looking for," he answered. Which Dingle? I gently put my cup down on the table. I didn't want to spill it did I? Did he have beef with one of them? Or more than one? I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe that's where I got my attitude. My mum always told me it weren't from her side of the family. The ones I have met have always been well reserved and presentable, until they talked. It's so funny, because here they are, these sharply dressed people, who are very clean, very well kept together, very spic and span. Then, they speak and they have the most broadest Belfast accent you'll ever hear. It's hilarious at times. My mum never saw it, as never lost her accent after moving to Bradford for university. I, however, never picked up the accent from just listening to her, as most people do. My mum said that when I was younger I had a 'wee Belfast twang to my voice', as she liked to say. But, as I grew up and made friends, my accent because _very_ stereotypical Yorkshire.

"There's more than one?" he nodded. "That's really going to narrow it down."

"Debbie has a garage at the end of the main street," he suggested. "If you want to try there."

"I'm in no hurry," I said, smirking.

-X-

After a bit Adam had to leave. Trouble on the farm and what not. Sad, I know, but I did manage to get him number though. Five points to Gryffindor. Right now, I was standing outside the little village shop, looking down towards the garage, _**Dingle**** Automotives**_. Believe it or not, sitting in a café for a long time actually gets boring if you're on your own. Although the two large doors to the front of the building, there were no cars about. The only person there was a young woman sitting at the counter. Her long blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail. From what Adam told me, it was a Debbie Dingle that owned the place, and I just hoped it was her.

Now, I wouldn't say this out loud or anything, but I'm actually kind of scared at the minute. I mean, who wouldn't be. If I'm right, which I most likely am, I'm about to meet a whole other side to my family and I don't know how to feel about that. Like I said before, I never met them before. I've seen my dad once in my life and I was only a couple of days old at the time. All I've heard is the stories mum has given me, plus a name. I'm lucky to even get that. The way she talked, she didn't seem to actually like him. That just made me even more nervous. I don't know how they're going to react. If they don't want me around, I'll end up having to go back to Vanessa and Mark. I'd rather run away to France or something, than go back there.

"Excuse me?" I asked, finally gaining the courage to walk up to the building. I must have looked a sight. A near-seventeen year old girl walking up out of nowhere, bags in hand. She looked up from, what I only can assume, is the financial books. She looks me up and down as I stood in the doorway. "Are you Debbie Dingle?"

"Yeah," She replied, putting the pen down on the table and turning her body to face me. "Who's asking?"

"Ugh, I'm Lucy," I introduced myself slowly. Why was I suddenly being all shy. This isn't me. "I was told you could help me find someone."

"Wait, Lucy? Lucy Harte?" She questioned standing up. I nodded as she walked closer to me. I noticed then that she must be at least six months pregnant. "Yeah, Social Services called and told us. We had no idea dad has another daughter."

"Cain Dingle's your dad?" I questioned and she nodded in reply. My eyebrows shot up. I was actually shocked. I had just unintentionally walked in and introduced myself to my own sister. Well, half-sister.

"Here," She walked back over to behind the counter. I was frozen in my spot. Handing me keys she took down from a hook, she shot me a small smile. "Second house up on this side. I'll be up in two minutes. Just let me lock up."

"Alright," I shrugged. Turning I walked back up the road and to the little terraced cottage, second one up from the garage, like she said. The place looked so homely, as I made my way inside. Girly toys in the corner. You know the works. Toy prams, baby dolls. All that stuff. Stuff my mum bought for me when I was six, but ended up breaking. Or cutting off all their hair. I was a bit of problem child, as you can tell. On top of the mantle piece stood several framed photographs. Debbie with, what must be, other members of the Dingle family.

"You can put your bags down if you like," Debbie suggested, as she entered the house. "I'm sorry for the mess. I wasn't exactly expecting visitors."

"No it's fine," I said, piling my bags into a neat pile by the couch. I could feel the awkwardness in the air. "I'm sorry for just turning up out of nowhere."

"I was hoping you'd come and visit at some point," She said, walking into the kitchen and filling up the kettle. "I didn't think it would be so soon after they called. Tea?"

"Why not," I shrugged my shoulders.

"Does your foster parents know you're here?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"Um, yeah, but," I began, hesitating on whether I should tell her the rest. "I kind of told them to stick it and walked out." She only chuckled and shook her head. "I thought here might be just a good, as staying with a family who hate you. So, If I were you, I wouldn't be surprised to get a call from the social in a couple of hours."

"You're family," Debbie told me, taking a seat. "You're welcome here as long as you like."

"Thanks," I said, trying to give a polite smile, as I sat down opposite her.

"He wasn't surprised when I told him. Dad." She informed me. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, looking away. Of course he wouldn't. But, I didn't want to say anything yet. Tell her how he told my mum to go it herself, just after she had a baby. Wanted nowt to do with us. "But, when I told Grandad and Lisa, they said they couldn't wait to see you. They even were wondering if you were coming to stay."

"Really?" I asked, turning my head back to look at her. "And what did you say?"

"Whatever she wants to do," said Debbie. "If you had foster parents like the ones I had, you might have wanted to stay with them."

"You were in care?" She nodded.

"I was thirteen. My adoptive mum just died," She informed me. "I lived here in the village with Paddy and Emily. They were really nice and kind. Then, I found out my mum and dad only lived down the road. Eventually, I went to live with them."

"Well, some aren't so lucky," I said, looking down.

"Like I said, you're welcome here," Debbie said. "You're family and we look out for our own."

"Thanks, again," I said. Debbie got up and poured two cups of tea. She was actually really nice. I don't know why I was so worried in the first place. If all of them were as welcoming as Debbie was, I wouldn't mind staying around here. "I know it's short notice and all. I didn't exactly think anything through."

"Don't worry, we'll sort something out," Debbie said, putting the cup of tea down in front of me. "How long have you known about dad and everything?"

"Well, mum told me his name growing up. But, that was about all I knew," I answered. "It was when Social Services came around a week or two ago, I found out all of you were here. I didn't really know what to expect. I've been, or thought I've been and only child for nearly seventeen years. My mums relatives are all in Northern Ireland, so I never saw them much. It was just me and mum. It never really though much about Cain and what family was on his side."

"Now you're here," She said, with a small smile. "They'll all be chuffed to meet you. Someone new joining the family."

"Yeah, right," I said, letting Vanessa's earlier words get to me. "A randomer rocking up on their doorstep."

"You're a Dingle," Debbie said, firmly. "That's enough for them."

-X-

It was late in the evening. Debbie had just made me feel right at home now. I thought it was almost too good to be true. Not everyone would be as welcoming as she was, to a long-lost sister turning up out of nowhere. Well, not literally. She knew about me, but, turning up without warning. That's better. She tried to talk me through some of the family, but I kind of got lost. Well, I wasn't paying attention. I was introduced to her daughter, Sarah, when her dad dropped her around. She was a lovely little girl, so friendly. Debbie explained her condition to me, and I couldn't help but feel sorry. That's why she and Sarah's dad were having another baby. Hopefully, it would be same blood type match or whatever for her. It would help her get better. I wasn't really good at all that science-y stuff at school. Don't ask me to explain it. She was pretty happy to have another auntie too. I wouldn't call myself an auntie, yet. I only just met them. But, when given time, I should be alright at it.

I also got to meet her fiancee Cameron. He seemed nice enough, I suppose. He was a good bit older though. Also, there was something shifty about him. It was just that look, you know what I mean. Debbie also made him pump up the air bed in Sarah's room for me to sleep on tonight. She explained how they had for when his two sons come to visit from Jersey. I just made the assumption that he was married before, but I didn't want to be rude and ask. As the evening progressed, I realized the only person to come now was Cain. She said that he lived here too. I had no idea what he even looked like. If mum had any photos, I have never seen them. A lot of the stuff from our house was put into storage. My great-uncle offered to pay for it. It was the least he could so, considering he and his wife were too old to care for me. I only kept the things I really need. My clothes and what not. I had some pictures and mementos with me too. Some of the things that I find really special.

I was, somewhat, relaxing on the couch, with the TV on in front of me. As much as I was welcomed into the house, it would take a while to settle in. I knew it. Debbie knew it. I was been tense, awkward. I didn't really say much, unless I had too, which was really different than what I'm really like. If I end up staying here permanently, she's in for a bit of a shock when I finally relax and my whole 'behavior' came out. Sarah had been tired, and gone to bed, so Gossip Girl was on the TV, but my attention was diverted away when someone came through the door.

"Who's your friend?" A male voice asked, as shrugged off his jacket. I turned around to face him. This must be him.

"Dad, this is Lucy," Debbie said. "Your daughter." He turned his head away from her to look at me. He had a hard look of his face, as he scanned me. "I told you social services were in contact."

"And they just send her here?" He questioned.

"_Her_ is right here," I said, slightly annoyed. "And I came her on my own. Living with a family that just stepped off the set of _Desperate Housewives_, ain't as nice as it seems, you know."

"She's come to stay here," Debbie whispered, even though I could still hear them. "She had nowhere else, dad. Her mums dead."

"You make it sound like I want to chuck her out," said Cain.

"You weren't happy, either, to hear that social services were contact, though," Debbie said to him.

"So?"

"Look, I'm going to go to bed," I said, standing up. "It's been a long day. I'm tired. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night," Debbie told me, as I made my way up the stairs. I left them to talk this out. I don't exactly want to be there when he says he doesn't want us around. After changing and brushing my teeth, I lay down on the, remarkably, comfortable air bed and drifted off into a nice sleep. God know, I need it.

* * *

**Next...**

**Lucy wakes up to her first morning in the village...**

**...She gets to know some of the locals...**

**...and the Dingles welcome an unenthusiastic Lucy to the family.**


End file.
